by Linda Howard
After gobbling up two chocolate chip cookies and washing them down with milk from her thermos, Eve bounded up off the quilt and looked from Judah to Mercy. “I want to practice some more.” She ran several yards away and said, “Watch, Mother. Look at me, Daddy.”
Without waiting for permission, Eve concentrated very hard, and gradually her feet lifted off the ground a few inches. Then a foot. Two feet. Three feet.
“Be careful,” Mercy cautioned.
“Daddy, what’s this called?” Eve asked, spreading her arms and waving them up and down, as if they were wings.
“Levitation,” Judah replied as Eve rose a good ten feet off the ground.
“Oh, that’s right. Mother told me. Lev-i-ta-tion.”
Leaning forward, intending to intervene and catch Eve if she fell, Mercy held her breath. If only Eve weren’t so headstrong and adventurous.
“You’re overprotective.” Judah manacled Mercy’s wrist. “Let her have some fun. She just wants our attention and our approval.”
Mercy glowered at him. “Eve has been the center of my existence since the day she was born. But it’s my job as her mother to approve of appropriate behavior and disapprove of what’s inappropriate. And more than anything else, it is my duty to protect her, even if that means protecting her from herself.”
Judah grunted. “You’ve lived in fear that the Ansara in her would come out, haven’t you? Every time she’s acted up, been unruly, thrown a temper tantrum, you’ve wondered if it was a sign of the innate evil side of her nature—the Ansara in her.”
“I’m going higher,” Eve called. “Watch me. Watch me!”
When Eve levitated a good twenty feet in the air, Mercy jumped up and motioned to her daughter. “That’s high enough, sweetheart. That was great.” She clapped several times. “Now come back down.”
“Do I have to?” Eve asked. “This is fun.”
“Come down, and you and I will play a game,” Judah said.
Eve came sailing down, slowly and carefully, as if showing Mercy that she shouldn’t be concerned. The minute her feet hit the ground, Eve ran to Judah.
“What sort of game are we going to play?”
He eyed Mercy, his look daring her to interfere. “Have you ever played with fire?”
Eve snapped around and looked up at Mercy. “Mother says I’m too young to play with fire the way Uncle Dante does. She said when I’m older—”
“If one of your abilities is psychopyresis, the younger you learn to master that skill, the better,” Judah said directly to Eve as he laid his hand on Mercy’s shoulder. “My father began my lessons when I was seven.”
“Oh, please, Mommy, please,” Eve said. “Let Daddy give me lessons.”
Any decision she made might prove to be the wrong one. She couldn’t be certain that a negative response wouldn’t be based on her resentment toward Judah for intruding in their lives.
Mercy nodded. “All right. Just this once.” She glared at Judah. “You’ll have to stay in control at all times. When she was two—” Mercy hesitated to share this information with him but finally did “—Eve set the house on fire.”
Judah’s eyes widened in surprise; then he smiled. “She was capable of doing that when she was two?”
“I’m very gifted,” Eve said. “Mother says it’s ’cause I’m special.”
Judah beamed with fatherly pride as he placed his hands on Eve’s little shoulders. “Your mother’s right—you are special.” He grasped Eve’s hand. “Come on, let’s go over there by the pond and set off some fireworks. What do you say?”
Jiggling up and down with excitement, Eve grinned from ear to ear.
Despite having reservations, Mercy followed them to the pond. To watch. And to censor, if Judah allowed Eve to do anything truly dangerous…
Eve had exhausted herself practicing first one talent and then another, all under Judah’s supervision. He realized that what Mercy had feared was Eve revealing to him just how truly powerful she was. And there was now no doubt in his mind that his daughter possessed the potential to be the most powerful creature on earth, more powerful than any other Ansara or Raintree.
He glanced down at Eve as she lay curled in a fetal ball on the quilt, deep in a restorative sleep. A feeling like none he’d ever known welled up from deep inside him. This was his child. Beautiful, smart and talented to the extreme. And she had instantly recognized him as her father and accepted him into her life without question.
He recalled Sidra’s words: If you are to save your people, you must protect the child.
In that moment Judah realized that he would protect Eve for the sake of the Ansara, but more importantly, he would protect her because she was his child and he loved her.
He turned and gazed out over the meadow as he struggled to come to terms with what was happening to him. In his position as Dranir, he made instant life-and-death decisions without blinking an eye. His word was law. Like his father before him, he ruled supreme over his people. As a boy, he had known he would grow up to become the premiere Ansara, the most powerful member of the clan, the Dranir. He could be ruthless when the occasion called for it, but he believed he was always fair and just. He had lived his life by the Ansara code of honor, and had sworn his allegiance to his people the day he was crowned Dranir.
And he had accepted the burden that fate had placed on his shoulders: to lead his people in another great battle against the Raintree.
For most of Judah’s life, Cael had been little more than a nuisance, a brother he neither loved nor hated. But gradually, Cael had proven himself to be a vile creature controlled by the evil insanity that had doomed his mother. And now he had to be stopped once and for all.
“Judah?” Mercy called quietly as she came up behind him.
He glanced back at her.
“We haven’t talked about the reason you returned to the sanctuary,” she said. “I’ve allowed you time with Eve. But you can’t stay here. You can’t be a part of her life.”
“Eve is in danger from my brother. Until she’s safe from Cael, I’ll remain a part of her life, with or without your permission.” Narrowing his gaze, he issued a warning. “Don’t try to force me to leave.”
“Or you’ll do what?” Mercy marched straight up to Judah and stood in front of him. Defiant. Fearless.
He wanted to tell her that he found her foolhardy but brave. Powerful men quaked in their boots if they displeased him. He had broken arms and legs, snapped off heads and sent traitors to a fiery death. He was Dranir Judah. But he could hardly proclaim himself to be the ruler of a mighty clan, not when the Raintree believed the handful of Ansara left alive after the great battle had scattered to the four corners of the earth and, for the most part, been absorbed into the human population. It was best if she continued believing that Ansara such as he were few and far between, only a handful who still possessed their ancient powers. A talented Ansara here and there could be dealt with easily; but a reborn clan of mighty warriors would pose a threat.
“We shouldn’t argue,” Judah said. “We have the same goal—to protect Eve.”
“The only difference in our goals is that I want to protect her from you as well as your brother.”
“You really think I’m the devil incarnate, don’t you?”
“You’re an Ansara.”
“Yes, I am. And proud of the fact. But you seem to believe I should be ashamed to belong to a noble, ancient race.”
“Noble? The Ansara? Hardly.”
“The Raintree don’t have a monopoly on nobility,” Judah told her.
“If you believe that the Ansara are noble, then our definitions of the word must differ greatly.”
“Loyalty to one’s family and friends and clan. Using our abilities to provide for and protect the people for whom we are responsible. Revering the elderly ones who possess great knowledge. Defending ourselves against our enemies.”
Mercy stared at him, a puzzled expression on her face. Had he said too much? Did she
suspect he was more than just a single Ansara with power equal to any Raintree? Was she wondering just how many more like him were out there?
“The Ansara used their powers to take whatever they wanted—from humans and Raintree alike. Allowed to go unchecked, your people would have subjugated everyone on earth instead of living in harmony with the Ungifted as we Raintree do now and have done for thousands of years.”
“You Raintree took it upon yourselves to become the guardians of the human race, and in doing so, you chose those who are mere mortals over those of your own kind. That decision locked our two clans into what seemed like an eternal war.”
“The Ansara are not our kind,” Mercy said emphatically. “Even your ancient Dranirs recognized that fact. That’s why they issued the decree to kill any mixed-breed children.”
I have revoked that decree! But Judah couldn’t tell Mercy what he’d done, didn’t dare reveal to her that he was the Ansara Dranir.
“Are you saying you agree with the decree?” Judah asked, deliberately baiting her. “Do you think mixed-breed children should be put to death?”
“No, of course not! How can you ask me such a question?”
“Eve is Raintree,” Judah said. “She is your kind. But she is also Ansara, which means she is my kind. Her bloodline goes back over seven thousand years to those from whom both the Ansara and the Raintree came. We were once the same people.”
“And for that reason, Dranir Dante and Dranira Ancelin did not annihilate all Ansara after The Battle two hundred years ago. The few Ansara who remained were allowed to live, in hopes that they would learn to coexist in the world with the Ungifted and find the humanity they had once shared with the Raintree thousands of years ago.” She looked Judah in the eyes. “But knowing you, I see that that hope was not fulfilled. You and your brother hate each other. His mother killed your mother. And he intends to kill you. He wants to harm Eve, and you want to take her away from me. The Ansara are still violent and cruel and uncaring and—”
Judah grabbed her by the shoulders. Mercy quieted immediately, glaring at him, her rigid stance challenging him. “You judge me without knowing me,” he told her. “My half brother isn’t typical of our kind, nor was his mother. Cael is insane, just as she was.”
When he felt Mercy relax, he eased his hold, but he didn’t release her. They stood there for several minutes, looking at each other, each trying to sense what the other was thinking. Mercy wouldn’t budge, keeping her defensive barriers in place. He did the same, not daring to risk her realizing who he really was.
“Because of Eve, I’d like to believe you,” Mercy said. “I’d like to know that the Ansara part of her will never turn her into someone totally alien to me. I know she’s high-strung and mischievous, but—” Mercy swallowed hard. “What you did to me was cruel and uncaring. Can you deny that?”
Judah ran his hands down her arms, from shoulders to wrists; then he let her go.
“At the time, I didn’t consider it cruel. I wanted you. You wanted me. We had sex several times. You gave me pleasure. I gave you pleasure. No promises were exchanged. I didn’t declare my undying love.”
Mercy’s expression hardened; her face paled. “No, but I told you that I loved you.” She bowed her head as if the sight of him caused her pain. “You must have found that amusing. Not only had you taken the Raintree princess’s virginity, but she told you that she loved you.”
Judah reached out and tilted her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I knew you weren’t in love with me. You were just in love with the way I’d made you feel. Really good sex can do that to a woman when it’s a new experience for her.”
“If I had known you were Ansara…”
“You’d have run like hell.” He grunted. “Actually, that’s what you did do when you found out, wasn’t it?” He studied her briefly, then asked, “Why didn’t you abort your pregnancy? Why didn’t you just get rid of my baby?”
“She was my baby, too. I could never have…”
Mercy went still as a statue. Her eyes glazed over, then rolled back in her head as she shivered. Judah realized she was experiencing some kind of trance.
“Mercy?” He had seen something similar to this with Ansara psychics, seers and empaths. He didn’t touch her. He simply waited.
As quickly as she had gone under, she emerged. “Someone is testing the shield around the sanctuary. And he’s not alone.”
Judah hadn’t thought his brother was foolish enough to actually show up at the sanctuary, knowing full well that he was here and would never let him get anywhere near Eve. But he could hear Cael calling to him. Not a challenge; simply a preliminary warning.
“It’s Cael,” Judah said.
“Your brother? How do you know for sure that—”
“I know.”
“We have to stop him! He’s trying to connect with Eve while she’s sleeping.”
“He’s playing games,” Judah told her. “He’s trying to show me how vulnerable Eve is.”
Mercy grabbed his forearm. “Just how vulnerable is she? How powerful is your brother?”
“Powerful enough to cause trouble.” Judah removed her hand from his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You stay here and protect Eve by any method necessary. Conjure up the strongest spell you know that will guard her from Cael’s attempts to enter her dreams. My brother possesses the power of oneiromancy. He can telepathically enter someone’s dreams and affect their well-being.”
Mercy clutched his hand. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to have a talk with Cael.”
“I should go with you to—”
“I don’t need you.” Judah pulled away from her. “I can deal with my brother. You take care of Eve.”
“You’ll need transportation if you’re going outside to meet him. There’s an old truck parked in the garage. Take it,” Mercy told him. “The keys are in the ignition.”
They shared a moment of complete understanding, bound together in a common cause that superseded any clan rivalry or personal animosity.
Mercy reinforced the shield that protected Eve from outside forces, then placed a special guard around her dreams. Finally she cast a sleeping spell over her daughter, something mild that would keep her subdued for a short period of time without leaving any aftereffects. There was no way to know what Eve might do if she thought her parents were in danger. Then, with the utmost gentleness, Mercy lifted Eve into her arms and carried her child back to the house.
Sidonia, who was removing heavy winter quilts from the clothesline out back, looked up and saw them. She dropped the sunned quilts into the large wicker basket at her feet and scurried toward Mercy.
“What’s wrong with her?” Sidonia asked. “Is she hurt? Did he—”
“She’s fine. Just sleeping. I cast a mild sleeping spell over her.” Mercy held out her child to Sidonia. “Here, take her, then go inside and stay there with her until I come back. I’ve made sure that she’s well protected, but…Guard her with your life.”
Sidonia took Eve into her arms, then looked squarely at Mercy. “What’s happening? Where are you going?”
“To join Judah. His brother has come to the sanctuary. He’s gone out to meet him, to stop him from carrying out the ancient decree.”
“Dear God! That monstrous edict to kill babies.” Sidonia gazed pleadingly at Mercy. “Call the others that are here at the sanctuary to help you. Don’t trust Judah Ansara to save our little Eve.”
“Take her inside now,” Mercy said. “And don’t alert anyone else. Judah and I can handle this.”
“Oh, my poor girl.” Sidonia tsked-tsked sadly. “You actually trust him, don’t you?”
“I—I don’t know, but…yes, I believe he’ll protect Eve from his brother. I believe he cares for Eve as much as an Ansara is capable of caring.”
Mercy rushed past Sidonia and into the house. She retrieved the keys to her Escalade from a bowl on the kitchen counter, then ran back outside and straig
ht to the garage. She slid behind the wheel of her SUV, started the engine, backed out and headed up the road.
When she reached the entrance to the sanctuary, she saw the old truck parked just inside the iron gates, but she didn’t see Judah. Her heartbeat accelerated. She pulled up behind the truck and parked, then jumped out and stopped dead in her tracks. Judah had gone outside. He was standing just beyond the closed gates, his back to her. Four strangers—three men and one woman—stood across the road, all focused on Judah. The woman, probably in her mid-thirties, stood apart from the other three. Two young men, little more than teenagers, flanked the man in the middle, the tall, lean blonde with eyes as silvery cold as Judah’s.
Cael. The murderous half brother.
Suddenly the woman noticed Mercy. They exchanged heated glares, and the woman zeroed in on Mercy, sending a quick telepathic zing in her direction. Mercy intercepted the mediocre attempt, added a touch more power to it and returned it to its sender. The zing knocked the woman backward so strongly that she barely managed to keep her balance.
“I see you’re not alone,” Cael said to Judah, who didn’t move a muscle. “Your Raintree whore seems to think you need help.”
Judah stood fast, not responding in any way.
Mercy walked down the road and up to the gate. She stood slightly to Judah’s left, only the closed gates and less than five feet separating her from him.
“The child isn’t safe,” Cael said. “I can breach the shield surrounding this place, so that means others can, too. As parents, you should be watchful. You never know when someone might try to harm Eve.”
“Anyone who tries to hurt my daughter will have to face me,” Judah said.
Cael smiled. Cold, calculating and sinister. And filled with a bloodlust unlike anything Mercy had ever sensed in another being. She realized that this man was as unlike Judah as he was unlike Dante or Gideon. He was what she had believed all Ansara to be: pure evil.